Business Meeting
by leboisduloup
Summary: Knives has a little business meeting with a certain Gung Ho Gun. Apparently, though, it's a disgruntled employee... (Mass spoilers, as always.)
1. Chapter 1

                The bastard, sitting there with his Cheshire cat grin.  Always looks so happy to see me.  He would be.  What can I say; the man has a streak of sadism a mile wide.  I suppose he enjoys watching people squirm.  I try not to squirm.

                It's very, very hard.

                "Good morning, Reverend!" he says, putting malice into the cheerful tones.  The man could melt ice with that voice.  Really, it was almost pathetic; I can never look at him without thinking of what a waste he is.  I'm sure he's got talents other than the infliction of misery, right?

                "Good morning, Crescendo."  The grin vanishes; oh, look, there it is.  I seem to have wiped it off his face and onto my own.  They say it's a bad idea to bait sharks, but I honestly doubt the Boss-man will let him take me down, no matter how much he wants to.  

                I'm just too valuable, the spy in the enemy camp.

                Jesus, what have I gotten myself into?

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

                "Ah, if it isn't our esteemed contact in the priesthood.  All's well on the religious front, I trust?"

                "Never been better."

                "Mmn... yes.  I'd suppose you have lovely chances to save souls as you send them on their merry way, to paradise or the inferno."

                Bastard.  And I'd thought his little toy was bad.  Too witty for their own good.  Nonetheless, I really am quite fond of living, and I know better than to bait the dandelion too much.  "It's a unique opportunity for a man of the cloth."

                "You know, I've got some good methods for getting bloodstains out of white," murmured the blue-maned man, examining his left hand idly.  I know better than to rise to the occasion, but every time he says something my trigger finger twitches...

                "Any particular reason you called, sir?" I say.  It's so much fun forcing words out from between clenched teeth.  Cigarettes make a good excuse for the tone.  I smoke more than usual when I'm summoned.

                "No, no... just wondering how my beloved sibling fairs."

                "Miserably.  If he wasn't such a pacifist he might well kill himself."

                "Excellent."  Knives smiled.  He looks so damn much like his brother... only much more malicious.  I find myself wanting to strangle him for the nth time today, and I just got here.  What I wouldn't give for a can of weed spray.

                Legato glances up at me and smirks.  I wonder; is he reading my mind or my expressions?  Or is he just being a bit stupid and grinning at me to try and set me on edge?  In either case, it doesn't work.  I'm already on edge, and everyone knows it.  Now, everything depends on how well I can hide it.

                I grind the cigarette out into the grass, smiling a little as Knives twitches.  A new one, freshly arrived in its crumpled state from the dark depths of my pocket, and a match.  As usual, I don't blow it out, just toss it behind me.  Maybe one of these days I'll burn the place down.

                Oops.  Hehe.

                "Tsk, tsk.  Not good for you, Reverend.  Bad for the lungs."

                Yeah, I know, weed.  Just like a bullet through the cranium's bad for migraine sufferers.  If it annoys you, how bad can it be?  "Allow me my little addictions.  I can't see any real reason for it.  And aren't I expendable anyway, as you're so fond of pointing out?"

                "I'll be happy to expend you, Father."  He grinned ferally at me again.  You know, his predatory effect would be more effective if he didn't have screaming blue hair.  It just makes him look cheap, I think.

                "Legato."  Knives sounded exasperated.  My life has meaning again.  "In any case, Reverend, won't you sit down and have some tea?  I'd like to discuss... the usual business arrangements with you."

                I ground out the cigarette on the closest tree and lit another.  Wow, wow.  Two twitches in one day.

                Okay, so maybe my life ain't so bad after all


	3. Chapter 3

                By tea, of course, he meant a full meal.  I've always been impressed by his spread.  Really I have.  He's got a real carnivorous bend to his diet; I suppose it's all part of his sick sense of humor.

                See, I've always suspected Knives was a twisted guy.  There's a good reason for it.  He is a twisted guy.  Honestly, I think he'd offer me human flesh if it weren't for the fact that I made it clear that I wasn't a cannibal.  _"But, Reverend, don't you take the body and blood of Christ on a weekly basis?"  "Yes, but there's this whole savior of mankind thing going on behind that.  And it's symbolic, anyway."  "Well... You know, some people get some pretty interesting ideas about my brother..."  "Yes, like that nitwit musical notation of yours.  Do you really enjoy watching him lick your brother like that daily?"  "...I suppose we'll accommodate your diet some other way, human."_

                "Would you care to say grace?" he said, in that mocking tone of his.  Yes, I'd like to say grace, and I'd like to finish it up by giving you the finger, blaspheming briefly, and going home.  But I suppose for the moment a prayer will do.

                "Why, certainly.  Anything for the sake of preserving my dear employer's soul."

                "I don't suppose you could manage it in one of those dead languages?"  He really is fond of dead things, especially dead people.  Big surprise.  I know what he's getting at; unfortunately, I spent most of my time in Latin class rolling cigarettes out of bible pages, soo...

                "Ah... In vino veritas; festina lente carpe diem.  Memento mori, aliciae per speculum transitus, aliciae in terra mirabilis."  Riight.  Okay.  None of that was in the least religious.  "Pies iesu domine, dona eis requiem."  Hah.  One prayer.  Go me.

                He merely smiled.  With my luck, he was likely fluent in Latin.  Yeah.  Well I could roll a better cigarette any day, so there.  I wondered briefly if it was tea he was drinking, or Miracle Gro.

                "That was lovely, Reverend.  Not your usual prayer; but I suppose that's all we can expect from you."

                "God forbid I be predictable."

                "I suppose you'd know very well what God forbids or encourages.  What was the verdict on killing again?"

                "It's actually 'thou shalt not murder...'"

                "Same thing, in your case."

                I really, really do know when not to answer.  See?  Be amazed.  Besides, there wasn't really anything for me to say.

                "In any case.  I do have a particular mission for you... "

                Fabulous.  What this time?  Kill things?  Maim?  Destroy?  Put glue in his toothpaste, for pete's sake?  Knives might be an evil genius, but he's not too clever with thinking up tactics.  You know, a good old fashioned human education on this boy and... well, humanity'd be screwed.

                "I want you to hit him where it hurts.  Seduce the short girl."

                Freeze.  Sweatdrop.  Stare.  Knives is smirking again.  That means he's serious.

                Lord have mercy upon my soul.  


	4. Chapter 4

                "Meryl?  You want me to... to..."  Twitch.  Damnit, he managed to make me twitch this time.    
                "Precisely.  I want you to take her away from him."  
                "But Vash doesn't even like Meryl!"  I'm twelve years old again, whining at my elders.  
                "I think I know how to judge my brother."  Well, I don't think you do!  Jesus.  Meryl?  I really, really, don't want to do this...  
                "I'm a priest, for chrissake."  
                "Never stopped you before," he said, eying my cross. Yeah, well... we do what we have to do. But why do I have to do this? I don't even like Meryl. I really, really hate my job sometimes. I don't even get dental benefits.  
                "So.  Can I trust you'll... mmn... take the matter in hand?"

                God above, I want to hand in my resignation right now.  Unfortunately, in this gig, handing in your resignation is generally fatal. "Well, I don't think it'll do much good, but it's not like you're giving me a choice."  I take a sip of tea to cover a few muttered obscenities. 

                "Wonderful, wonderful. Well then... is there anything left to discuss?"

                Yeah.  How your brother can be such a good guy and you can be such a demented jerk.  "No, I don't think so..."

                "In that case, I'll take my leave.  Ah... if you require an escort, I'm certain Legato will accompany you-"

                I think I'd rather cover myself in honey and let a platoon of fire ants eat my flesh off the bones.  "Won't be necessary."

                "Ah. Go with God, Reverend."

                "You as well, sir."  And remember that God gave Adam dominion over all he'd made, including the animals, fish, and plants.  Bastard. 

                I mean, we all want to go back to the Garden of Eden.  But wasn't it sin that got us in this mess in the first place?  My own hypocrisies notwithstanding, God doesn't like homicidal maniacs.

* * *

Thus is chapter four; I apologize for the shortness and the crappiness.  I wrote it during my lunch period in the library today.  Umm.. I just wanted to give mega thanks to everyone who's reviewed this story so far.  It was a total sudden inspiration, and as this is the second story I've ever written with Wolfwood in the first person (though I roleplay him constantly, so mebbe it doesn't count for so much,) I'm really glad to hear you guys think he sounds right.  ^.^  If you're up for angst, go read Preacher Man.  It's my favorite story thus far, though not nearly as much fun to write as this.  


	5. Chapter 5

                I really, _really don't want to do this.  Lord, deliver me from my current tribulations and I __promise I'll be really, really good.  I'll... um, stop killing people or something?  No, that won't work.  I... won't short-sheet Vash's bed anymore?  Ah, it's too much fun.  Well, I swear I'll find something really good to do, just please don't make me do __this..._

                I don't even know how to go about it.  Funny thing, that; there's no class on seduction at the seminary.  I wonder why.  Maybe because this is a situation most priests don't find themselves in?  Nah, it _couldn't be __that._

                Geez... I don't even know how to start a conversation with the girl, much less woo her.  "Gee, hello Meryl.  I know we've never said more than two words to each other before but how'd ya like to hop inta bed for a bit?"  God help me. 

                "Hey there, Meryl."

                Wow.  Smooth so far, right?  Thank God almighty I was able to get her alone for now.  I don't think I'd be able to do this with an audience.  I'd say it looks like my luck is changing, but somehow I can't see this as a good thing.

                "Oh, hello Mr. Wolfwood."  She's fairly oblivious to my presence, typing away.  I wonder what she's really writing, sometimes.  "How are you?"

                "Very well indeed."  Go me.  "And yourself?  I trust the lovely lady is having a good day."

                I think she heard that because I saw her finger slip off the key.  But as she types about three hundred words per minute, that could be a natural accident... still, she isn't reacting.  This... is going to be tough.  What is a man to do in a situation like this?  My honor is at stake.

                Well, there's nothing dishonorable in retreat.

                "Well, I'll see you around."  Nooo, that didn't sound forced at all.  I'm not the brightest bead on the rosary sometimes.  

                "...Yeah.  See you," she murmurs, intent on her typing again.

----------------------------------------------------------

Me again!  Hee.  Thanks again for support, everyone who commented- I'm glad to know my poor, tortured bokushi-sama amuses you as much as he amuses me.  I have some fun ideas for where this story's going; once I have the time, I'll start doing some longer chapters, but for now, I hope this shall suffice to give you your twisted little fix for the day.

And for the record- if Wolfwood had head-explody, life would be a hell of a lot easier, don't you think?  ^.^


	6. Chapter 6

                Damnit.  Just... damn it all.  And I'm a priest, so when I damn something, it holds water.  I can damn with the best of them, yes I can...

                But there, I'm getting off track again.  Must focus on the task at hand.  Although nothing would please me more than to disobey the Cutlery boy, I do value my own skin somewhat.  Though, apparently, Meryl doesn't.

                It's not as if I'm not trying.  I just... can't seem to get the girl alone.  She's always off with Milly, selling insurance, or off pestering Vash, or sitting around typing up her six thousand page reports.  I wonder what she's reporting.  I mean, it's not like anything really happens anymore.

                Either that, or I'm just too distracted to notice it.

                It's not like I have the free time anymore to subtly disobey orders and help Vash out.  Nooo, I'm always busy with the new assignment.  Lucky me, right?  Gah.

                At the very least, I can take some consolation in the thought that maybe I'm doing Vash a favor, getting what's-er-name off his back.  Honestly.  If she paid half the attention to me she did to him, then I'd be able to get on with business.

                Note to self:  get really, really large bounty put on head so insurance girls decide to put me under surveillance.  Yeah, that might work...

                No, what am I saying?  They'd just turn me in for the cash.  Well, they _do let you have cigarettes in jail, right?  It can't be __all bad... hmmn.  Nah.  There's probably some unforeseen downside to being arrested.  After all, Vash seems to avoid it as much as he can._

                Hey.  There she is again...

                "Heya Meryl!"  

                "Oh, hi Mr. Wolfwood..."  she's distracted.  Then I notice the binoculars in her hand.  Bird watching...?  No, this is the middle of the desert.  Any birds here are either demented or dead.  She glances away, though she makes no move for her field glasses.  I follow her line of sight...

                Yeah, I should've guessed.

                "He doing anything interesting?"

                "Nah.  Just... sitting there staring at the sky."  She sounds (as usual) annoyed.

                "Would you prefer he were off slaying the innocent and reducing cities to rubble?"

                "...  Almost.  At least then there'd be something to do."

                Twisted bitch.  The sad thing is, I almost empathize with her.  After all, even I'm going a bit stir crazy.  It's been weeks since I've been in a real fight.  Much more of this and I'll start singing Kumbaya and shooting the cacti to pieces.

                Oh?  What's this?  While I'm staring at Vash, she's staring at me.  Yes!  Progress.  I mean, Damnit.  Progress.  That is...  God save us all.  I don't even know what I think anymore.  Nonetheless, an assignment is an assignment.  I take a deliberately careless half-step forward, moving into her space.

                Haha!  The woman blushes.  I seem to be getting better at this seduction business.  This, although it leaves me one step closer to Meryl, leaves me one step closer to surviving the assignment.

                And then, she takes a step back and raises her binoculars to look at Vash again.  Damn.  It.  All.  I will _not be ignored.  Okay, so maybe I will._

                Still... 

                I'm getting closer... 

---------------------------------------

Aieee!  Slavedrivers.  ^.^  There, this chapter's a tad longer.  And I'll write more, I proooomise!  ^^  I never intended this to be more than a one part, anyway; but when I got the idea for the whole Meryl thing, and how much I could make Nicky bitch about it, I couldn't resist.

Never fear.  There is no end in sight...  Except for the moment.  G'niiight!


	7. Chapter 7

_                Morning, Reverend._  
                I hate it when they invade my head.  Not that I don't like being seen talking to myself or anything...   
                _A human concession.  I suppose i can't really blame you for being unable to communicate without the verbalization.  Nonetheless, how is this different from your prophets?  
                "They spoke with God."  Greeat.  Now I can't even think nasty little comments.  I think I'm going to get a headache.    
                _If you do, it'll be no fault of mine.  In any case, I doubt you're up for a philosophical discussion at the best of times; considering your state at the moment, I'm certain you couldn't argue one with a child._  
                "Thank you for the vote of confidence, sir."  He doesn't even _need_ to hear the sarcasm.  
                _Always, Reverend.  In any case, how goes the assignment?_  
                I grope blindly on the side table for cigarettes.  "Dismally.  The woman is blind."  
                _Blind, or preoccupied?_  
                I shrug.  The gesture's thoughtwise enough for him to get without having to see it.  Matches, matches...   
                _Well, are you going to be _capable?  
                If there's one thing I hate, it's him doubting me.  And of course, the bastard knows it.  "I'll do the job.  Now, if you wouldn't mind, I don't think my cover will hold particularly well if I sit here talking to you all day."  
                And as cleanly as he comes, he goes.  I think.  Shaking my head to clear it, I light up a cigarette._

* * *

                Vash is beginning to look at me funny.  Probably because I'm following Meryl around.  You'd think the boss'd take that into consideration; my sudden fixation on the insurance girl is a bit suspicious.  But no.

                I begin, at times like this, to understand the minion's view on life.  Sometimes existence _is pain._

                Bah.  I try everything to get the girl's attention.  Perhaps instead of leaving it unbuttoned, I should just cease wearing the shirt.  I rather doubt she'd notice.  The boss calls her preoccupied; I'd be more inclined to call her thick-headed.  But far be it from me to be so uncharitable.

                Really, though.  I'd never admit it to him, but I'm beginning to doubt my capability.  If it were someone else, then maybe...  But Meryl doesn't seem to be reachable.  And I still say seduction is a secular art.

                To be fair, though, each day she seems more and more discouraged with needle-noggin.  I think that maybe, if I can wait long enough, she'll give up on him.  Maybe.  Hopefully, because short of hitting her over the head with the Cross Punisher I can't think of a way to do this.  And while it does have a certain appeal, I don't think it's really the best way to build a lasting relationship.  Or whatever end it is I'm seeking.

                And it's really, really hard to be seductive with that funny-lookin' cat staring at me all the time.


	8. Chapter 8

((Short chapter.  Sorry for the delay.  But happily, the next one is promising to be a bit longer, and is half-written as we speak!  Because I love you all.  ^^  This'n's not very good, but it sets the scene for ch. 9... So try to enjoy it.))

* * *

                Success!  Haha. 

                So why do I feel a little sick?

                I think I've finally got her where I want her.  Or where Knives _wants_ me to have her.  At least, I think she'll give in soon.  Vash finally glared at her the other day, and she's been sulking ever since.  Cue the priest coming in to comfort poor little helpless insurance girl-

_                -Poor little helpless insurance girl who's got a cape full of guns-_

                -And winning her trust, admiration, and love.  Yeah.  Hopefully.  At least he's discouraging her; if I had to really steal the girl away from him, I think I'd be in a lot of trouble.  Honestly, she's hopeless.  All I can do is pray that she'll move on (quickly, before you-know-who gets impatient,) and look to the next best thing.  Yours truly.

                Gah.  This assignment does wrong things to my head.  I can't believe I actually want _Meryl_ to _like_ me.  The tall one's a lot cuter, anyway.

                In any case, she did look at me today, when she thought I wasn't paying attention.  For a very long time.  Now I can understand why Vash gets so creeped out by it; she eyes people like _he_ eyes donuts.  Really, I think they make a pretty good couple; they're both completely outta their minds.

* * *

                So.  I guess the mission is a success.  Meryl caught up with _me_ this time.  It appears she's now wrapped around my little finger quite happily.

                Uh... so... now what?

                Helllooooo?  Mister evil misanthropic plant-man?  What am I supposed to do with the girl?

_                He can't hear you, idiot.  He doesn't spend his time listening to spiders._

Oh, great.  My favorite person on Gunsmoke.  A glance around assured me I was alone; it just doesn't look good to be found talking to yourself.  "And apparently you do."

_Not by choice, Reverend.  I do what He asks of me._

Obviously.  He doesn't even have the creativity to take an insult.  "So, uh, what am I supposed to do now?"

_About what?_  He sounds completely innocent and oblivious in my mind, the bastard.  

"About _her_, of course.  What do I do, now that I've managed the..." eew, do I have to say it?  "Seduction?"

_Didn't they teach you anything in that religious-trap of yours?  The birds and the bees, I believe the clever euphemism is?_  Suddenly I wonder how often Crescendo eavesdrops on my mind.

"Well, I mean... what's the eventual end of this situation?"  I don't even want to contemplate... yeesh.  

_I won't pretend to know the Master's wishes_.  I wish he were here so I could beat that smug grin off his pretty face._  So violent.  And here I'd thought yours was a peaceful God?_

"He may be a peaceful God, but I'm a vengeful servant."  It comes out sounding like a snarl.  I hope it 'sounds' the same way to him.  "Could you at least ask him to clarify his plans a little?  Tell him I've achieved the mission and would like to know-" take a deep breath and spit it out- "my subsequent orders?"

_I don't believe the Master wants to be disturbed right now.  _He sounds so amused.  I really, really hate this guy._  I'll be certain to ask him when I see him next._

"Such a good little secretary."

_At least I'm not a traitor,_ he whispers smoothly into my mind.  He sounds so... _velvety_.  It's kind of obscene.  Why the Boss couldn't send him to seduce the insurance girl- well, I suppose he wants someone a little more intelligent and independent.  Still...  Before I can think something worth muttering back at him, I get the distinct feeling that he's gone.  I guess the inside of my head feels a little less crowded.  It's relieving, though I do detest letting him get the last word.  


	9. Chapter 9

::Winces as all Meryl fans will certainly be hunting her down with blood on their minds very, very shortly.::  Sorry for the longlong wait.  I had a TERM PAPER.  But I did figure out the eventual ending for this travesty, so expect more sooner.  Hopefully. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------

                "Nicky..." she kind of nuzzles me.  "Recite some poetry for me or something."  Isn't it funny; she acts so weak and innocent and at the same time so commanding.  It might be cute, if it weren't so disturbing.  

                "Uh... sure."  I clear my throat.  "Um...  Roses are red; violets are blue.  Sugar is sweet, and-" that's right.  Lie through your teeth.  "So are you."  I really hope that didn't sound as miserable as it felt.

                She giggles.  "Oh, _Ni_cky.  You're so funny."  She smacks me playfully.  That might be cute, too, if it didn't friggin' hurt.

                "I'm sorry... _dear_.  I'm just not much of the poetry type..."

                "You must know something..."  Do I detect a hint of demand under the sugary tones?  Of course I do.  It's Meryl.

                Um...  "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name; Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on...  Gunsmoke...  as it is in Heaven.  Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses-"  Judging by the look in her eye, the Lord's Prayer won't suffice.  Blasphemous wench.  "I'm sorry...  I really just don't know any poetry."

                "Oh."  She sounds really downfallen.  Meryl kind of slumps, pulling away from me a bit.  Dammitdammitdammit... come back here, blasphemous wench.  Honestly, I'll ignore the heresy, just... don't screw up my assignment.

                "I'll try and learn some."  I manage it well; the tone isn't too desperate.  She seems to pick up a little.

                "Or you could write your own," she suggests.  Or rather, instructs.  Yeah; definitely an instruction.  This is wonderful; now, I have two sets of orders to follow.  And if I ignore this one, it kind of throws off the other.  Hallelujah.  Death for failing my superiors is starting to sound pretty damn attractive at this point.  

                "Yeah... okay... I'll try," I promise.  Doesn't sound desperate.  Or despondent.  I disentangle one arm briefly to go for a cigarette.

                "You're not going to _smoke_, are you?"  Her voice goes icy cold, again, and sounds doubtful.  As though I would dare to go against the short girl who I don't even like for the sake of keeping her infatuated with me because some plants don't even know their brothers well enough to know that this is an absolutely useless situation.

                "Of course not!"  No, no.  That's not what hysterical sad laughter sounds like at all.  That was perfectly natural.

                "Good!"  Well, at the least the bitch has brightened up a bit.  Peachy.  "I'm glad to know you're finally willing to quit those disgusting things."

                "..."

                "Is something wrong, Nicky?"

                "..."

                She pokes me.  When I don't respond, she does it again.  And again.  Christ, does the woman sharpen her fingertips each night?

                "Is something the matter, Nicholas darling?"

                "Not.  At.  All."  Oh, Lord above; are you really certain suicide is a mortal sin?  The blaspheming wench tempts me as ever to stray from my righteous path.  Okay, so maybe smoking isn't part of my righteous path.  But still, are all my sins really that bad?  All of a sudden, she grabs me really tightly and possessively.  I manage not to twitch, pull away, flinch, or beat her with the nearest blunt object screaming about uncleanliness.

                Oh, look, Vash is passing by.  And... Meryl just grabbed me.  I may not be a so-called superior being, but I'm certainly able to put two and two together.

                ...I feel like more of a tool than usual.

                Damnit, I bet he's laughing at me.  

* * *


End file.
